


Radiance

by Catapily



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Birthday, Christmas, Comedy, Crosstale Sans/Dreamtale Sans | Dream (Undertale), Dreamtale Nightmare Sans (Undertale), Dreamtale Sans | Dream (Undertale), Dusttale Sans (Undertale), Horrortale Sans (Undertale), Inktale Sans (Undertale), Killer Sans (Undertale) - Freeform, M/M, Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), happy birthday dreamtale bros, it turns contemplative near the end, kind of, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catapily/pseuds/Catapily
Summary: In which gifts are exchanged, songs are played, and fun times are had.For the Dreamtale bros' birthday!
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Radiance

**Author's Note:**

> Not AU other than the fact that everyone is more friendly than they probably should be.
> 
> I wrote this all in one day and I'm still late and this is probably really rushed but oh well

The Swap brothers’ house, though always festive no matter where it may be, had exploded with about twice as many decorations just for today. After today, Blue would bemoan how hard it was to hang all the lights and all the garlands up by himself without his taller brother’s help, and how he would have to take it all down afterwards as well. Stretch, as was customary of him, would simply shrug and congratulate his brother on all his hard work of Gyftmas decorating. These sincere compliments would encourage Blue to put more effort in his work, and consequently, tire him out once more. It was a vicious cycle.

Though, today, the house was decorated for more than just Gyftmas celebrations. It was Dream’s birthday, and, as a close friend of Blue’s, that meant a celebration dedicated to his most magnificent and hardworking friend -- a celebration with decoration and cake, and with Dream’s friends to come have fun as well! A date and time was set, and Blue was preparing for his friend’s arrival. In the process of stringing up even more decorations, Blue’s attempts at gaudier exploits were foiled when Dream arrived at his house a full 2 hours early, and announced that he would help Blue with the preparations.

“Isn’t helping prepare your own birthday party paradoxical?” Stretch had asked, slumped back against the offensively red couch. Doing nothing was Stretch’s specialty, though Blue had left him in charge of choosing the music to play. Luckily, Stretch didn’t have the drive to troll them all today, and instead shuffled through a nice playlist of popular holiday tunes and jazzy renditions.

Heading towards the kitchen, Dream hummed, rolling back his sleeves. “I don’t really mind. I like baking.” 

Further in the kitchen, the two could see Blue rushing around, mixing batter, icing cookies, and pulling things in and out of the oven. Dream ducked as a splatter of batter flew out of Blue’s rapid and wild mixing. He heard a shouted, “Sorry!” from his side. Another glob went flying, this time hitting the ceiling. Dream smiled a bit -- this was Blue cooking, all right -- and went to organize the kitchen a bit more and to clean up the blobs of batter.

_ SLAM! _

“Heyy! Dream!” Ink walked in from the front door, dragging an irate Cross behind him, struggling slightly in the artist’s surprisingly strong gip.. “I brought your boyfriend!”  
  
“Let me go, you doofus!”

“I gave him a Santa hat to match the spirit!”

“ _ Ink! _ ”

Sure enough, a fluffy red hat sat atop of Cross’ flushed face, an incredible contrast to the rest of his monochromatic outfit. Blue had an identical batter-stained hat on his head as well, while Stretch had a long, silver beard sticking to the honey he was sipping. Ink had gone all-out, his outfit swirling with red and gold, bright red painted poinsettias colouring his normally beige scarf. Dream had simply put on a poncho trimmed with white fur -- though, it may be a better idea to take it off before it got dirtied by the mess in the kitchen. He folded and placed his poncho next to Stretch, who was mourning his honey.

“Hi Ink, Cross,” he said warmly. “Thanks for coming.” Distantly, he heard Blue calling welcomes from the kitchen.

Ink rushed over to help Blue, telling him, “Take a break, Blue! Haha, you’re really determined to make as many cookies as you can!”

Dream helped Cross off the floor where Ink had unceremoniously dumped him. His soul warmed at the soldier’s presence. Cross mumbled a greeting to Dream, then kissed him. Flushing just a bit, Dream kissed him back. Faintly, Dream could hear Stretch gagging at the PDA.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dream said. Cross smiled, and Dream could feel the warm feelings of affection emanating from him.

Taking in the sights of the house interior, Cross furrowed his brows. “There’s so many lights in here?” he said, voice full of concern. “Where are the walls???”

“I think your jacket is the plainest and safest place to look at now,” Dream replied amusedly. Then he turned to face him, tangling their fingers together. “We’re baking cookies. Do you want to help?” 

After a moment of hesitation, Cross nodded, and joined the chaos in the kitchen.

It was hard work with four people in the kitchen, especially with Ink and Blue very prone to causing chaos and Cross who wasn’t very experienced with baking, but soon the cookies were out of the oven, cooled down, and frosted. Organized onto a couple of plates, there were stars, flowers, gingerbread men… 

Then they had moved on to other foods -- “We must follow a healthy and balanced diet!” Blue had exclaimed, and no one argued with him as they moved on to (thankfully tasty) tacos. With much of the food cooked, the kitchen mostly scrubbed, and dirty clothes taken to be washed, Blue mixed together some peppermint hot chocolate for everyone and they had taken a break. Squished on the couch together, they talked about their days, dozed a bit. Dream found himself leaning against Cross and watching Blue and Ink guess what the other had planned to give to Dream. Occasionally Stretch would jump in with a pun, sometimes Cross would make a comment of his own. Dream was simply content to listen to his friends, respond when he wanted to, and to soak up Cross’ warmth.

Soon, Dream’s friends moved on to their next great adversary -- baking a cake. Blue had insisted on keeping the cake’s design a secret. Snickering, Blue and Ink corralled Dream out of the house, to the latter’s half-hearted protests. “This part has to be a surprise!” Blue exclaimed, leaving Dream to grab his things and instructing him to return in an hour or so. 

This left Dream outside in the Snowdin snow, with a basket of cookies he had sneaked out and a gift under his arm. Well, he needed to leave for a short while anyway. Might as well use this time for that.

Stepping under the cover of the icy forest, he opened a portal to the ruins of Haventale. Shivering, yet determined, he passed through.

* * *

“ _ Deck the halls with dust and LV, falalalala, lala la la… Tis the season to be jolly, falalalala, lala la la… Don we now our creepy smiles, falala, lalala, la la la… _ Shit, what’s after this?”

Lazing on the couch, Killer’s slightly more concerning carols echoed throughout the room as he twiddled with his knife. What was there to do, really? Nightmare was out, Horror had taken over the kitchen to do  _ something _ , they couldn’t open any portals and the last thing they had stolen was some hot chocolate... Killer’s main sparring partner, Cross, wasn’t here, and Dust also refused to fight with him. Needless to say, Killer was bored out of his mind. He went through the first stanza once more, before a pillow smacked him upside the face.

“Shut up and take your stupid carols somewhere else,” Dust grumbled from the other side of the room, the thrower of the pillows.

Grinning, Killer pulled out his phone (that just so happened to be connected to the speaker in the room) and started playing the 3 hour version of Dust’s titled Worst Christmas Song in Existence. With this dramatic and petty-ass exit, he backed out of the room as the first warbling strains of the song started blasting on the speaker. A couple of sharp bones embedded themselves around the doorway he was headed out of in retaliation.

“No no nO COME BACK HERE AND TURN IT OFF GODDAMNIT KILLER,” was heard as Killer vaulted over the bones and out of Dust’s range of blue magic. He hurried down a hall, not looking forward to what his more maniacal companion would do to him if he got caught. At least Dust’s screaming blocked out most of Mariah Carey’s voice. 

“ _ All I want for Christmas is-- _ ”

“All I want, is for this fucking song to  _ FUCK OFF _ \--”

Ah well. It wasn’t his problem anymore. Unless they broke the speaker again, but they could probably steal another one again… 

Killer hummed another tune as he continued down the hall. He twirled his knife around to the beat of the music.

“ _ Just hear those soul shards shattering, crick-crack, and crackling too… _ ”

_ Tap. _

Oh. That was pretty loud. He heard that. The  _ tap-tapping _ of boots started to fade away. Killer kept humming as if nothing had happened, but there was definitely someone else that wasn’t supposed to be here. This could be exciting.

His persistent not-chasing led him to Nightmare’s office, or at least to the hall leading up to it. By then he had stopped humming and focused more on who this mysterious little sneak could be. Though he didn’t need to think about it at all -- by the time the office door was in sight, Killer watched Dream out in the open, attempting to turn the handle to no avail. Teleportation didn’t work either. 

A muted feeling of curiosity bubbled up within Killer. The Star Sanses weren’t usually this complacent during reconnaissance, especially Dream, and they were especially on guard in Haventale. This was strange, and fascinating in its strangeness. It was time for him to find out the whys.

* * *

Dream had felt the metaphorical knife at his neck as he wandered down the halls long before feeling the true blade behind him now.

“Whatcha doing here, Dreamy?” Killer said from behind him, his voice a quiet rasp.

“Special delivery,” he said, slowly turning so that he could face his brother’s lackey. Surprisingly, Killer let him turn. “But my recipient isn’t here.”  
  
“It’s a bit early for Gyftmas.”

“My brother and I don’t always exchange Gyftmas presents. This is for our birthday.”

Killer blinked. “Birthday?”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been with him the longest and you don’t know?”

Silence. Then Dream grinned.

“Did he really not tell any of you? That’s just like him,” he snickered.

Killer was frozen in place, mental cogs turning in an endless cycle of  _ what _ . Dream slipped away from the knife and opened a portal. It wasn’t until the portal had closed behind him that Killer had realised Dream was gone.

Dust had (thankfully) not destroyed the speaker since Killer had left. Now the three of them were gathered in the kitchen, where they found Horror making some sort of pastry that neither Killer nor Dust cared to learn the name of. The news of Nightmare’s birthday was news to Horror and Dust as well.

“Will the boss kill us if we try to do something for him?” Horror asked.

Dust squinted at the funny pastries on the counter. “Well, he hasn’t killed us the past 5 years when we celebrated his birthday on various days as a joke…” 

“I can make more food for when he comes back…” 

“That’s what we did every year. We should come up with something else, too.” 

“Ethically-sourced hot chocolate.”

“You mean the hot chocolate that we stole not a day ago?”

“Do  _ you  _ have any ideas, then?”

“...”

Dust glanced at Killer, who was tapping at his phone. “Kills, you’re the one who told us all this and you’re texting someone?? Help us think!”

“I’m gathering intel,” he replied, “I need someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

* * *

After much fussing and even more cake batter, the cake was in the oven and everyone in the kitchen could take a breather.

“I told you I couldn’t bake,” Cross grumbled.

Ink waved him off. “Eh. It’s not like I know how to, either."

“Do not worry, friends! I’m sure the cake will be great,” Blue exclaimed, washing his hands after the other two had finished. “For now, we wait.”

“What about the icing???” Cross pointed out.   
  


“We made icing?”

Blue scanned the counter for the bowl of icing. Cross narrowed his eyes. “Ink, don’t tell me you…”

“Don’t tell me I..?”

“Did you take the entire blue bowl and--”

“The bowl’s empty!” Blue exclaimed.

“-- and dumped it all in the batter, making all of it extremely liquid-like and causing us to pour all that extra flour in there?”

Ink could do nothing but grin sheepishly.

Cross threw his arms up in the air. “All my hard work, the icing, the only thing I knew how to make, all that for NOTHI--”

A sudden  _ moo  _ shut Cross up. It was his phone’s text tone.

Ink burst out laughing, doubling over in his mirth. “It went moo--”

“Oh, no no no, shut up, why did it come from my phone I didn’t set it up this way,” Cross said, panicking (he totally wasn’t afraid of cows nope definitely not) as he unlocked his phone and checked the text on Undernet. “What the hell?”

mrknifeguy: cross help apparently its the bosses birthday today 

Blue leaned over, reading the texts. Cross uttered another, “What the hell.”

crisscrossed: How the fuck did you text me I thought I blocked you

mrknifeguy: trade secret just help me

mrknifeguy: how do i gift a gift to an immortal guardian who can basically get whatever he wants

“Screw this,” Cross hissed as Ink came over as well.

mrknifeguy: crossy boy

mrknifeguy: cross

mrknifeguy: pls

mrknifeguy: respond

mrknifeguy: cross

_ You have blocked mrknifeguy. You can no longer send or receive messages from mrknifeguy. _

* * *

“Goddamnit Cross I--”

“So, no intel?” Dust snarked as Killer faceplanted on the table. “We’ll have to be original then.”

“We should still get the ethically-sourced hot chocolate,” Horror added as he started making another batch of pastries (?).

“Yes, we’ll get the hot chocolate since we’re out of ideas. What else?”

Horror added, “We can just steal more food. And a Santa hat.”

“Won’t it just get covered in the boss’ goop?” Dust said.

“A weapon,” Killer suddenly said. “We should make him a weapon.”

“Blades?” Dust suggested. “Daggers?”

“I think we’re getting an idea. We should steal some food, then come back and make this weapon…”

* * *

It took Dream longer than usual to find his brother. Away from Haventale, he wandered from AU to AU, jumping through those whose negative presence suffocated him in order to find his brother.

It was in a neutral world where he felt the unnatural negative presence hovering in the air. The night sky stretched above him, light pollution destroying what would have been a breathtaking view of the stars above. Snow fell in small tufts, gliding to the floor. He swerved through the neighbourhood’s dark and dusty alleys, stepping over litter and small animals, his boots crunching through the snow. Soon he had left the striking shadows of the city’s soaring structures and into a park, devoid of any presence except for one. Dream saw the huddled figure of Nightmare under a short tree, his tentacles curled around him. It was cold, he finally noticed, though he didn’t know if his brother had the capacity to feel cold or if he were using those tentacles to keep warm.

Dream didn’t greet his brother, but simply sat down next to him. From his inventory, he pulled out a small basket of cookies. Though he was sure that Nightmare had noticed his arrival, he had not said a thing. Dream curled up a little more. The ground was freezing.

“Why here?” Dream asked through clattering teeth.

Nightmare glanced at him, but didn’t respond. Instead he pulled something out of his own inventory. Two mugs of hot chocolate. He handed one to Dream. 

Gratefully, Dream took it through numb hands (skeletons weren’t supposed to get cold, were they? Maybe it wasn’t the cold that was making him shiver). He nudged the cookies closer to Nightmare, who opened the basket and took one of the star-shaped ones. Dream snorted. How ironic.

For minutes, they did not say a thing. For years, they have done the same. For their entire lives, they spent their birthday together, from their carefree days under the Tree of Feelings, to a solemn visit to a stone statue, to only minutes of silent company before they departed their own ways once more. There was a knot of tangled sentimentality in there -- how strange it was, Dream thought, for two beings almost revered as their own gods, to be susceptible to a feeling that belonged to mortals. Indeed the guardian of positivity could feel heartrending longing and regret, and the corrupted guardian of negativity could still feel warm nostalgia and peace. Dream wondered if Nightmare had ever thought of the same.

...But it was nice, he supposed. This would be the closest they could get to their days under the Tree of Feelings, of course. These moments were quiet, yes, but at least they were peaceful. At least Dream could stay with his brother for a few peaceful moments before their feud started up once more.

Once they finished their hot chocolate and cookies, they silently exchanged gifts. Dream carefully tore the silver paper apart, as Nightmare did the same. For the first time that night, Nightmare chuckled.

“Clothes? Really, Dream, I am old, but I’m not getting that old to deserve clothes as a birthday present,” Nightmare said, holding up a jacket, it’s sides framed with silver, fur fluffing the top, a crescent pin holding the ensemble together.

“Speak for yourself, you gave me an entire outfit,” Dream retorted, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. His brother had designed him an entire new outfit… He wanted to hug Nightmare, he really did, his soul filled with so much joy and gratitude it was probably making the other wince.

On the contrary, Nightmare smirked. “You’ve always complained of me or the others destroying your clothes in battle. Hopefully you don’t go through these just as quickly.”

Cheeky. It did remind him of the old times.

Nightmare stood up, tentacles gently waving in the air. The snow was still falling.

“Happy birthday, Dream,” he said, voice quiet in the night.

Dream smiled and said, “Happy birthday, brother.”

Then Nightmare dissolved into a puddle of goop, slinking off to wherever he would go…

It was time for Dream to head back to his party.

* * *

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

Blue’s cake looked amazing, artistically frosted into golden swirls and the outlines of stars. The taste… It was indescribably good, yet extremely sugary, which Cross noted was from Ink’s mistake of putting their entire first batch of icing into the cake mixture. The tacos were great as well, a huge improvement from when Dream first met Blue. It sent a jolt of nostalgia through him. Had it really been so long ago?

Then they had moved on to gifts. From Stretch and Blue, aside from the party hosting and the magnificent cake by the Magnificent Blue, they had gifted him a fantasy book of Stretch’s recommendation. Ink had given him a simple brown folder, filled with sketches and small works of art -- Dream on a walk, Dream chatting with Cross, Dream and Ink and Blue… It was amazing. Then Cross had gifted him a beautiful set of a headpiece and an amulet. The headpiece, worn on one side of his head, didn’t hinder with his circlet, but rather complimented it, with small wings stretching to the back. When paired with the amulet, Cross said, it was to add defensive magic to Dream’s person. 

Maybe he was so moved that he cried a bit. Just a little. 

Then he found himself bundled in arms, his friends hugging him, wishing him all the best. 

His companions were really the greatest people out there.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling through his overflow of joy.

* * *

Nightmare certainly wasn’t expecting a welcoming party at his return.

Clearing his throat from the doorway, all three occupants in the kitchen turned towards the noise.

Taking in the silence, Killer smoothly stood up and said, “Happy birthday?” 

“What?” 

Killer tried again. “Happy birthday, boss.”

Nightmare prepared to ask them how they figured it out, but decided not to at the sight of Horror bringing four mugs to the table. He ignored Dust delicately dropping a Santa hat on his head and focused on the four very familiar mugs of chocolate. It was, in fact, the same hot chocolate he drank earlier with Dream.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Ethically-sourced hot chocolate,” Horror replied.

“...Ethically sourced?”

“Stolen with no casualties, he means. We got it yesterday,” Dust added. He continued, mumbling a bit, “We prepared this all since it was your birthday…”

Nightmare wasn’t touched at all. Not a little bit. Not even after seeing Dream almost cry with joy at the sight of his gift.

(Oh, who was he kidding.)

(It was just a bit embarrassing, that’s all.)

Then Killer brought something out of his inventory.

“We do food every year,” he said, “on the prank birthdays, I mean. But we also made this.”

In Killer’s hands was a set of daggers, curved and elegant. Its body was dark grey, small and sharp, with the emblem of the crescent moon on its side. Killer handed the daggers over and told him to channel some magic into it. 

A spark of magic awakened from the hilt, extended the dagger to a thin sword of cyan light. More than that, there were more energies in the daggers -- a swirl of two shades of red and purple covered his knuckles. Dust, Killer, and Horror’s respective magic. It was protective. Unsummoning the daggers, it was almost foolish for his subordinates to believe they could make something like this, suggesting that their boss needed more protection of some sort. 

(But he didn’t really view it that way, did he?)

These daggers would hide well under the coat that Dream had given him. But as for how the daggers were made… How the three had managed this on their own, he had no clue. 

Nightmare cleared his throat again, this time not to announce his appearance but rather to clear the lump in his throat. He took a deep breath, and quietly said, “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> How did Dust, Killer and Horror get the cool funny blades for Nightmare? Good question. I would either say *magic* or they had stolen it from somewhere and then *magic*.
> 
> Dream's outfit is undescribed because I have no ideas for it, but it probably compliments the headpiece and amulet that Cross gave him very well.


End file.
